Guilt
by Mireille DeMaupassant
Summary: A glimpse into Sirius Black's first few days in Azkaban. Written for the Diagon Alley II Forum's Grand Battle Challenge.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Harry Potter books or any of the characters contained within it.

**AN**: This ficlet was written for the Diagon Alley II forum's Grand Battle of Hogwarts Challenge. My chosen prompts were as folllows:

Dialogue: Love and loyalty mean more to me than blood (3)

Characters: James (1), Sirius (3), Lily (2)

Pairing: James/Lily/Sirius (9)

Spell: Avada Kedavra (9)

**Guilt**

Sirius Black knew he mustn't sleep, but that didn't make it any easier to keep his eyes open. His cell was small and dark, with empty walls and a bare floor, and, thanks to the heinous nature of his crime, it was the only inhabited cell in his block. So, with no one to talk to and no personal possessions to his name, he'd taken to pacing to keep the memories away. For seven straight days, he had walked day and night, never pausing and never resting. He followed the same path, again and again: up the empty side wall, across the row of steel bars at the front of the cell, down the other empty side wall, and across the back wall that would have been empty were it not for his rickety little bed. Now, his feet were screaming, cracked and bleeding through the worn soles of his Ministry-provided shoes; his eyes were swollen and so dry he felt his lids scrape against them with every blink; and his body ached with fatigue to his bones. But he couldn't afford to stop, not when true horror lurked just beyond—

_He didn't know why he was nervous. He had spoken to them both like this dozens of times. It was probably something stupid, like when they had announced they were going to wear matching dress robes for the graduation ceremony. But when he came through the portrait hole, he found them standing near the fireplace, rather than occupying their favorite plush armchair. James had a hand in his pocket, no doubt fingering the old snitch he'd kept from their fifth year Quidditch final. Lily was twirling a lock of her hair. When they saw him, they both straightened and smiled._

_"What's wrong?" Sirius asked instinctively._

_"Nothing!" came their twin replies._

_They shared a meaningful look and then silently agreed that Lily would speak first. She stepped forward._

_"Sirius," she said, her voice more tentative than he had ever heard it, "James and I are moving to Godric's Hollow after graduation."_

_"Yeah," Sirius said, having already heard this at their grand announcement the week before. "And?"_

_"And...well...we want you to come with us!"_

_Sirius could have laughed. Had he been so transparent in his pining for them?_

_He put on his most charming smirk. "What's the matter? Can't stomach the thought of life without old Padfoot?"_

_"Well...yes."_

_"But that doesn't make any sense!" he said, dropping the act. "You two are starting your new life together—"_

_"And we want you to be a part of it," said James. "We...we love you."_

_"I love you guys too, but—"_

_Her lips were as soft as the petals of her namesake, her kiss as light and fresh as a summer breeze. He felt her fingers lace into his and, without thinking, he closed his hand tightly around hers until she pulled away. Completely disbelieving, he turned to James for understanding and found himself caught in another embrace, this one more rough but every bit as wonderful._

His eyes snapped open. He was on the floor, the side of his face squashed against the cold stone. How had he gotten there? Had he tripped? The answer came to him when he tried to lift himself up and a hot, sharp pain ignited his leg. His ankle had given out and one torchlit glance at it told him that it was most likely broken.

He swore under his breath, wondering how he would get the proper medical attention, assuming he would even be allowed any. This was Azkaban, after all. It wasn't exactly renowned for its humane treatment of its guests. He considered calling out for help, but who would hear him in this labyrinth of empty cells? No one. He was alone, and his only options were to lie there on the floor or to get himself onto his bed. Before he could decide, he felt a distinct drop in the temperature of the air around him.

Another meal already?

He watched the frost form in fractal patterns on the walls around him, felt the chill of despair seep through his robes and into his skin. The dementor, a towering, hooded creature of pure darkness, glided down the little bit of corridor that Sirius could see, carrying a tray in its scabby gray hands. The enchanted cell door swung open at its approach. Upon entering the cell, it seemed to realize that something was amiss, because it stopped right in front of Sirius.

"Hey!" he called, seizing upon the opportunity. "I'm hurt! I need a healer! Do you understand? A healer?"

If the dementor had understood him, Sirius would never have known. After several seconds of silence, it seemed to get as far as concluding that he wouldn't be retrieving his meal, so it simply released its grip on the tray, sending it clattering to the floor. Sirius wrenched himself aside just in time to narrowly avoid being splattered with unidentifiable mush. When he looked up again, the dementor was already gliding away.

As the heat drained back into the atmosphere, Sirius felt weaker, somehow. Without the cold to numb him, his leg throbbed worse than before and his muscles radiated soreness through every inch of his body. For the first time since his arrival, he began to feel the true weight of his life sentence in the inescapable fortress. He was utterly alone; he was maimed; and, by the stars, he was exhausted.

_"Sirius, this is ridiculous! Come back inside!" James's voice called from back patio of the cottage they shared. He was annoyed and angry._

_"You don't understand." Sirius replied, struggling to keep his voice even as he paced back and forth across the small garden, feeling so much like his canine persona._

_"Of course we understand," said Lily. "You don't think it upsets us to hear the unspeakable things the Death Eaters are doing?"_

_"But it's not the same!" Sirius growled. "Bellatrix Lestrange? Regulus Black? They're not just Death Eaters, they're my family, my blood!"_

_"I don't give a damn about your blood!" shouted James. "Love and loyalty mean more to me than blood!"_

_"Then, you're a bloody fool, because—"_

_"Enough!" Lily said fiercely. She was breathing heavily, holding onto the doorframe for support with one hand and resting the other protectively over her swollen belly. Sirius stopped in his tracks. He and James fell silent, both instantly ashamed. "Sirius, you're not leaving, not with little Harry due to arrive at any moment."_

_"Lily, I...you named him?"_

_"Harry James Sirius Potter-Black, and he's going to need both of his fathers."_

"No!" he gasped, forcing his eyes open. It was darker than he remembered. At first he thought it was just his eyes adjusting, but then he realized the light from the torch outside of his cell had been diminished. As he wondered what could've happened, he heard the steady rhythmic clicking of footsteps coming down the corridor. He straightened and listened eagerly as the steps drew closer. A moment later, a shadowy figure stood at his cell door.

The bars squeaked as they swung open again.

"Prisoner number 11815-1159," said a quiet voice as its owner stalked toward Sirius. "We meet at last."

He was a tall man, with long, thin limbs that stuck oddly out of his small, round body. His robes were the same as all of the prisoners'—a dingy, dull gray that drained all color from the skin—but, where the prisoners had their numbers stitched, this man had a name. Sirius found that if he squinted, he could just make out a handful of the letters: a U, an M, an R, a G, and an E. He became so focused on deciphering the name that he never saw the man's wand.

"_Laetatus_!"

Sirius felt invisible bands loop under his arms and legs and pull him up from the floor. They tightened when he was fully erect, pinning him to the wall like a specimen to be dissected. The man stooped down and that's when Sirius saw the other item he had brought with him—a dark, tattered looking, leather medical bag.

It landed on the floor with a soft thump. When the man opened it, several items flew out. The most recognizable of these was a roll of parchment and a quill, which went straight to the man's elbow and hovered there, as if awaiting instruction. They were quickly followed by a large brown bottle filled with liquid that sloshed as it moved, a dented tin cup, and a syringe.

"What is that?" Sirius asked, eyeing the bottle and syringe as they floated before him at his eye level. "Who are you?"

The man responded by gripping Sirius's injured ankle and squeezing hard. Sirius's eyes filled with tears as white-hot pain shot up his leg, but he bit down on his tongue and uttered no sound.

"Mediwizard log entry number 206," the man said as he stood. The quill began to scratch away at the parchment at once. "Prisoner 11815-1159 has suffered an acute tibial fracture near the right talocrural joint."

Through his blurred vision, Sirius saw the man point his wand at the bottle. Its cap twisted off and the bottle poured a measure of smoking liquid into the waiting tin cup. The man jerked his wand again and the cup flew to Sirius's lips. It tipped itself unceremoniously and Sirius nearly choked on the familiarly foul-tasting potion that filled his mouth.

"Prisoner was given a dose of Skele-Gro," the man continued, "and is expected to make a full recovery by morning. Prisoner also complained of sleeplessness."

"What?" Sirius sputtered between coughs. "I never said—"

"Prisoner was also given a small intravenous dose of Sleeping Potion to sedate him during recovery."

After recording his last dictation, the quill and parchment zoomed back into the bag. The bottle and cup followed just as they had before.

"Please," Sirius pleaded as the man stepped toward him with an unsettling smile on his face. He came so close that Sirius could have counted his crooked, yellow teeth. "I don't need—"

"The guards tell me you haven't been sleeping, Mr. Black," he said in a low, sinister voice laced with excitement. Sirius felt the man's hot breath on his face. It smelled faintly of cinnamon. "We simply cannot allow that."

There was a small prick as the syringe jabbed its needle into Sirius's neck, but any discomfort he might has felt afterward was quickly countered by the effects of the Sleeping Potion working its way through his veins.

"Please..." he begged, his tongue already becoming heavy with oncoming oblivion. "No..."

He felt his bonds loosen. His body slid to the floor.

"In Azkaban," said the man's voice from somewhere above, "even a powerful Dark wizard such as yourself, Sirius Black, cannot escape his reckoning."

Sirius tried to move but his limbs felt like logs; he tried to keep his eyes open but his eyelids were bags of sand. The world was growing colder, darker. Thick fog rolled in all around him.

_As soon as the blackness released him, he knew something was wrong. He ran up the front path and through the open door. James was there, on the living room floor, his eyes open and unseeing, his face a mask of shock and terror._

His whole body shook from the cold. He forced his eyes to open, but he couldn't see. The shadows stood over him like sentinels, willing him back into their abyss.

_Lily's scream drew his attention upward and, suddenly, he was running up the stairs, wand in hand. But he was already too late._

_"Avada Kedavra!" the cold, high voice hissed._

_Sirius reached the nursery just in time to watch He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named step over Lily's lifeless body, point his wand at their son's face. He charged, armed with nothing but his anguish, praying to the stars to be able to save Harry._

_"Avada Kedavra," The Dark Lord hissed again, and the world shattered in an emerald blaze..._

_"How could you, Sirius? How could you betray your own family?"_

_"I'm innocent!" he screamed as he watched his friend-turned-adversary disappear in a blast of rubble._

_"I'm innocent!"—as twelve blameless people lay dead or dying because of his mistake._

_"I'm innocent!"—as five aurors spelled him to the ground._

_"I'm innocent!"—as his own insane laughter rang through the empty air._

"I'm innocent!"

**AN**: I'm definitely going to have to revisit this one in the future to really flesh it out because there's so much more that I wanted to put in that I just didn't have the time to work out. Hope you enjoyed it! R&R please!


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